


Here But A Moment

by ladyoneill



Series: Shadows Of The Moon: Full Moon Ficlets [64]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mates, Miscarriage, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:53:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1945320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is thirty and so very happy...until it's gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here But A Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fullmoon ficlet prompt: Ephemeral. First time I went with the option to write a longer fic (over 1700 words). Please read the tags, this is not a happy fic.

Stiles can't help it. As he scrubs the kitchen counter, he keeps stopping to touch his stomach, flat but only for now. There's a bright smile on his face that has been there since Peter gave him the news three days before.

Another baby. Their fifth.

Although it's hard to pinpoint conception for him, Peter and Alan think he's nearly two months along. He's had no symptoms of morning sickness or anything yet. It's been a wonderful breeze.

One more month and they'll tell everyone, though the wolves all know because of the heartbeat thumping solidly in his womb. Stiles thinks Lily, so close to her first change, knows as well, as her senses have ramped up over the last few months, but she just smiles at him and offers to do more chores.

He's all for his kids doing more chores.

The kitchen sparkles and, after washing his hands, he goes to the refrigerator to think about lunch. Peter's in his den negotiating a land purchase. Buying stuff always makes him hungry.

Pulling out lunchmeat and cheese, he starts to make sandwiches, an off-tune whistle on his tongue, a smile still on his face.

He's just so damn happy.

*****

Drawn by the sound of his mate's joy, Peter enters the kitchen in a very good mood. He just talked down the seller of forty acres of prime forest in Oregon to below what he hoped to pay and he's looking forward to a peaceful, quiet lunch with Stiles. As he enters the kitchen, though, his senses attuned, he realizes something's wrong.

Something's missing.

He pales.

No.

As Stiles turns from the counter, a plate loaded with sandwiches and vegetables in each hand, Peter stumbles forward, dropping to his knees and pressing his ear to his mate's stomach.

No.

"Peter?" The joy's gone, replaced by confusion, and Peter feels tears sting his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Stiles," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Wh...at? Peter?" he demands.

"The heartbeat's gone."

*****

Stiles knew. He knew as soon as he felt Peter's pleasure turn to pain, watched him fall in front of him, press against him.

No. No. No. No.

The plates slip from his hand, crash and shatter on the stone kitchen floor. Tears flood his eyes and he falls as well. Peter catches him, holds him tightly, both of them crying--Peter silent tears; Stiles loud, uncontrollable weeping.

"No, you're wrong, you have to be wrong. It was there this morning. You heard it. It can't be gone!"

Peter tries to soothe him, but Stiles pulls away, drags himself to his feet, shaking his head in denial. 

"I feel fine," he argues.

"It's gone, Stiles. The baby is...not alive."

"No." 

Rising to his feet, Peter brushes at his wet cheeks, then reaches for Stiles, who skitters back, still shaking his head. "We need to go to Alan. If something needs to be done..."

"Fuck you, Peter! You're wrong!"

He's so angry. Peter's wrong, he has to be wrong. He feels _fine_! No cramping, no bleeding, nothing...nothing...

Slowly his hand goes to his stomach, his mind goes inward, searching for the nascent Pack bond. 

It's...gone.

Fresh tears spill and he tumbles into Peter's arms.

*****

Deaton confirms that the fetus' heart has stopped beating. Stiles' body seems to be absorbing it as, unlike a woman's body, his can't expel it, but he's cautioned to watch for excessive cramping and any bleeding.

Not sure Stiles is even capable of listening, Peter pays close attention to possible after-effects and acknowledges that he understands what might still happen. As his mate stiltedly rights his clothing, his eyes empty and staring at the floor in the exam room, he takes Alan aside and asks, "What went wrong?"

"There's no way of knowing, Peter," Alan replies softly as Peter's eyes never leave his mate. "Women often miscarry in the first trimester. Things just happen. It's the body's way of dealing with a fetus that's not viable."

"You warned us that by the time he was thirty, he might not be able to get pregnant again, but he did."

"I still hold to that, but it may just be that he can no longer carry them to term. I'm amazed he's born four healthy children, Peter, and only lost two. What he is is unprecedented in modern times. We break new ground with every pregnancy."

"What should we do? Can we try again?"

The vet's eyes are sympathetic as they pass over Stiles before returning to Peter who knows he looks as lost as his mate. "I wouldn't risk it. There doesn't seem to be any harm to Stiles this time, but we just don't know what might happen."

"A vasectomy won't take on me."

"No, I recommend condoms or refraining from penetrative sex. He doesn't have a cycle like a woman, either. Pregnancy just seems to happen. There's no way to know when it might again or even if it might. This could be his body's way of saying 'enough'."

Peter nods in understanding, his wolf, who's always been the dominant one pushing to impregnate their mate, surprisingly in complete agreement.

No more cubs.

*****

When Alan leaves them alone, Stiles, finally calm enough, looks over at Peter and sees their shared pain on his face. He's not shutting down, being the Alpha.

It...helps.

Slowly he slides off the exam table and wraps trembling arms around his slender waist.

It's going to stay slender.

He sniffs but doesn't cry again. He's not sure he'll ever be able to cry again. Like the dishrag he was using just an hour earlier, he feels wrung out to dry.

"Did Alan say when we could try again?" His voice breaks and it's probably too soon to mention, but...

Peter startles, actually visibly startles, which startles Stiles in turn.

"I can get pregnant again, right?" 

"Stiles..." There's so much pain on his mate's face that Stiles feels ice flood him. No.

"I'm only thirty. I can..."

"Alan always said thirty might be too old," Peter sadly interrupts. "He doesn't think we should try again."

"One mis.,.miscarriage," Stiles stammers, shaking his head. "They're common."

"Nothing about any of this is common." Peter's voice goes hard. "I almost lost you to once pregnancy. I won't risk it again."

Shocked, Stiles just shakes his head. "It's not just your decision."

"You know it is."

No.

Not again.

Not the fucking Alpha!

Furious, Stiles storms out of the exam room, flinging "I hate you!" over his shoulder.

******

Peter lets him go, lets him rail in his anger and frustration, because he knows Stiles needs to be angry and frustrated, to work through it, and he does that best on his own, but he finds that he himself needs comfort.

Needs to talk to someone who understands.

Fifteen minutes later he finds himself on the doorstep of Stiles' former home, facing his father-in-law who gives him a baffled look, but lets him in. Wearing comfortable clothes, obviously off-duty, he's been watching a baseball game and having a snack. 

But, he's always a cop.

"What's happened?" John asks as he hesitantly retakes his seat and mutes the television.

Slumping onto the couch, Peter rubs his hands over his tired eyes and swallows his pain. "Stiles, he was pregnant."

"...Was?"

"He miscarried sometime earlier today. The baby...its heartbeat was there this morning, but then by lunch..." He chokes on the lump on his throat and stares at the floor between his feet.

"Oh God. I'm sorry, Peter, for both of you. I...Is he okay?" The pain in John's voice is real and honest and Peter can't help but nod.

"Angry and hurting, but physically he's okay. He...might cramp some and bleed. We just don't know." Voice dying away, he rubs his hands over his face again, before gripping his knees. 

"Let me guess, he stormed off to deal with it on his own."

"Yeah."

"He'll be okay, Peter. And, if he's not, you can find him." Such trust in the man's voice, it almost lightens Peter's dark mood.

"Yeah, I will. I just...He won't be home and he doesn't want to talk to me, so I..."

"It's okay. You want a beer?"

Peter nods and as John rises to get him one, the older man squeezes his shoulder in sympathy. 

"We can talk or just watch the game, whatever you want."

"Thanks."

As John heads to the kitchen, Peter stares blankly at the television and wonders what he's supposed to do next.

Maybe just have a beer and try not to think and worry.

*****

For a couple hours, Stiles just wanders the town, his mind full of dark thoughts, his eyes empty of emotion. He's miserable and scared and lonely. He wants Peter so badly and hates him just as much.

And hates himself for hating his mate and acting like a brat and...

As he walks down Main Street, the first cramp hits, making him groan and double over. Finding a bench, he sits, tries to breathe through it.

The tears hit again and he tries to hide them, stop them, but the early stages of pregnancy are always so emotional for him, and...

He's not pregnant anymore.

Peter says he'll never be again.

The shock dries the tears and he stares blindly across the street until his vision is impaired by a large shadow. Slowly he looks up into Derek's compassionate eyes.

"Peter told you."

"He asked me to find you, make sure you get home."

Another cramp hits and Stiles knows it's for the best. He needs to be home, in bed, resting.

Empty now and forever, if the Alpha gets his way.

Feeling dull and heavy, he lets Derek help him up and into the car for the silent ride back to the house.

*****

In their bedroom, Peter paces nervously. He knows he should have left Stiles alone, and he tried, he really did, but something could go wrong. He could start to bleed.

But, for once, he was too much of a coward to find his mate himself, so he sent Derek. Derek who'll just gather Stiles up and bring him home, let him rant or cry or be silent, while he just absorbs it all, the perfect Second.

The cubs are home from school, but Angelina and Cora have them all outside in the backyard playing and having snacks in the warm afternoon, the babies and toddler with them. Stiles needs quiet. He'll want to see their cubs, hold them, but Peter knows that will hurt him right now.

And they need to talk. 

Through their mating bond, he feels him reach the house, come inside and up the stairs. He's hurting so much, but Peter does nothing to block him.

Nor does he send any of his own pain back. He can handle it on his own.

The first thing he sees when Stiles comes into their room is his grief. He's no longer angry. That's a good step.

"I...I'm sorry I ran out."

Nodding in acceptance, Peter carefully moves towards him and, when Stiles doesn't flinch back, takes him in his arms.

"I'm sorry, too, for everything."

"I wanted...I want to give you more cubs," he whispers sadly. "I want to give you a huge family."

"We have four of our own, and, Stiles, don't you realize you already have?" He can hear the children playing outside, laughing and shouting, his niece and niece-in-law joining in their games, Derek chasing his sister around the gazebo. Peter guides Stiles over to the balcony and opens the doors before they step outside. "You're the glue that holds all of this together, that brought us together as a Pack, a _family_. All the Pack cubs are healthy and happy. They'll go on to have their own and the family will continue to expand. Look at them, Stiles. We created all of this. You did this with your magic and your compassion and your downright stubbornness to make us Pack and strong."

Peter feels when Stiles starts to accept the truth he's speaking, and he holds him close as they watch their cubs play.

*****

The cramps have faded. He didn't bleed. It's probably over. 

Gone.

Stiles feels empty, but as he watches Emma playing with her favorite doll, listens to Lily laughing at something Cora said, sees his baby boy toddling after Unca Derek, and Zoe braiding the hair of one of her many friends who always seem to be underfoot, he accepts that it's going to get better.

He's going to get better.

At the thought of never having another baby, his heart aches, but he remembers Alan's concerns, his warnings over the years. They know so little about how his magic creates the cubs, how he can even carry them, sustain them. 

They've been lucky four times, unlucky twice. Every pregnancy has been a risk to both him and the baby. Every baby that survived is a miracle.

They have four miracles.

His heart lightens just a bit, but he owes his mate another apology, and he sighs softly and sinks against his side, face turned into his shoulder as he mumbles, "I'm sorry I said I hate you."

"I forgive you. You know I do." Peter's lips brush over his forehead. "Let's get you to bed, okay?"

Stiles nods and they reenter the house, together, in mutual grief and love.

They'll survive this. They survive everything life throws at them.

They always have.

End


End file.
